Page 75 of Pragma
“Take thekumichoout of here! I’ll get Akira-san,” I order them as I move toward the counter to grab Aki’s katana and my gun.
“This place is huge. How are you going to find him?” Marco asks.
I look behind the counter, and the owner is on the floor, coughing blood. Motherfucker!
I round the wooden island and place my boot on the guy’s sternum. It goes easily down on his ribs, breaking one, two. He screams.
“Where is Akira-san? What room?” I growl, temporarily stopping my boot.
“You messed with my nephew and called down the wrath of hisgaijin. Morons!” The kumichois still here. Why didn’t she leave? Doesn’t she know she is a target?
“Room four,” he gasps out. I resume the pressing of my sole against his chest. “D-down that c-corridor, on th-the left and riiiiight, please stop. Stop! Ahhhh.”
The first shot hits him in the cheek, the second in the forehead. Smoke comes out ofKumicho’s gun.
“Nobody continues living after betraying me.” She turns her gaze toward me. “Get my nephew, River,” she says my name for the first time and then leaves.
The possessiveness I’ve been suppressing hard for so long flows out all at once. I can barely control myself. Must protect him, must protect what’s mine. The words keep echoing inside my head as I head down the corridor followed by Marco and four of his men.
“You don’t have to come.” As I voice my thoughts, Marco shoves me to the left. A flying knife cuts the air where I was standing a moment ago and gets stuck in the painting hanging on the wall.
Marco’s men quickly take down the guy who threw it.
“Fuck!” I curse.
“You’re welcome,” he clips, before moving forward. One of his men gets shot in the shoulder as we turn left, and I pull the trigger before the same fucker hits Marco as well.
“You’re welcome too,” I state.
We make another turn and finally reach the room. There’s a man on the threshold. I impale him on the sword and shove him inside the room.
The earth calms just before a devastating Tsunami envelops me. It washes over me, drenching me in unquenchable rage. My body and heart freeze at the sight in front of me. Aki is on the floor with Ling Wang on top of him, his pants’ zipper is down, boxers too, while Aki’s shirt has been torn open. There’s blood and a knife.
A roar booms inside the room as I storm inside, grab the back of the motherfucker’s shirt and throw him against the opposite wall. I stalk after him, heaving like a horse ready to use his hooves to do a lot of damage.
I lift him from the floor by his gelled hair and pin him against the wall, impaling his shoulder on Aki’s sword. He has blood on the side of his face and chest already. I want to see more. I punch his liver first, block his left hook, and counter with a cross to his guts. Catch his pathetic swinging hand, and twist until the bones in his wrist crack, grab the other, and break that as well. It’s not enough. His screams are not enough. I can still see the redness around Aki’s nipple, the bruise on his cheek.
The blade still lodged in his shoulder keeps him stuck to the wall as I weaken his jaw with my elbow again and again until blood and teeth spill out his mouth. His dick is not hard anymore but dangling down. I raise my boot and squash it slowly under the hard sole, enjoying the atrocious pain I’m inflicting to the son of a bitch who dared touch my Aki.
Looking straight into his fearful eyes, I sever his carotid, shooting both hands straight out, and as he gurgles, struggling to take in his last breath, I bare my teeth and snarl, “Hell is waiting.”
“Fucking shit,” I hear someone say. That’s when I remember Marco and his men are here, too.
I walk back to Aki, who hasn’t moved and is still lying on thetatami. He’s shivering in an almost broken state. His skin feels cold to the touch. His pupils are dilated like he was…
“He looks high,” I hear Marco say. “Check the dead man’s pockets.” One of his men follows his order straight away.
“I feel dizzy,” Aki whispers just as I hear Marco stating, “From the look of it, it’s roofie.” He’s holding a little square plastic bag containing some pills.
Rohypnol? The date rape drug? It has a very strong effect on him, if I remember correctly. He’s going to lose consciousness soon.
“Don’t touch me! You wanna die?” he hisses at me, trying to hold up his bloodied knife. He doesn’t seem wounded. Only bruised. He must have fought like the Mad Dog he is. His pants are still fucking on, thank Christ.
His eyes are flickering around, unable to focus on my face. I hate to see how exposed his most vulnerable self is right now.
“So I can touch you if I’m ready to die? Kill me if you want, I’d give you my life a hundred times over,” I whisper.
His trembling hands suddenly grab my shirt, and his eyes fall on my face. He grins so fucking happily at me. In a ragged breath he murmurs, “Bunny? You are alive! Am I hallucinating?”
